


Fetish

by halfsweet



Series: Twisted Love AU [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Power Imbalance, Somewhat Unhealthy Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: Patrick has a fetish for Brendon’s love.





	Fetish

**Author's Note:**

> Title and story (and summary, for that matter) are all based off of Selena Gomez's _Fetish._
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The scent of sex lingers heavily in the air as he pulls out and sits back, his eyes raking in the sight of Patrick shaking and shuddering and gasping for air, his face smeared with his tears and come, and there’s even more on his chest and stomach.

He leans forward and places both his hands on Patrick’s ankles, spreading his legs even wider until Patrick’s whining, until his own come drips out. Without wasting his time, he shoves in two fingers inside, crooking them against his wall, pressing and spreading and twisting around.

Patrick sobs, his voice already wet from tears, and even though he’s shaking his head frantically, begging for _“no more, please,”_ , but he’s already arching into his touch, hips grinding down onto his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, wet and shiny with come and lube, and he hovers over Patrick, who’s looking up at him in tears. He doesn’t say anything, only showing his fingers before Patrick willingly opens his mouth, his tongue out as if coaxing him to put his fingers inside.

And he does. He doesn’t keep his eyes off of Patrick as his fingers are enveloped into the wet warmth of Patrick’s mouth. He can feel his tongue slowly licking up his fingers from the web to the tip, cleaning until there’s nothing left.

He presses his fingers flat down on his tongue, Patrick holding his gaze and sucking gently, his cheeks hollowing and jaw slacking, Adam’s apple bobbing every few seconds.

He moves his other hand to cradle Patrick’s jaw, thumb pressing against the spit-slicked corner of his lips as Patrick’s eyelids flutter close, his entire body going lax on the sheets, even with his hands tied to each side of the bedpost.

It’s mesmerizing to watch Patrick like this. Even in this situation, tied up, stained with come, hole loose and sensitive from being fucked too many times, he still looks angelic. Like all the evil in the world can’t even come within a mile radius without them being incarcerated into ashes by his long-tainted purity.

He moves his fingers inside his mouth, rubbing against the inside of his cheek before they slip out between his lips, and Patrick opens his eyes at the loss, hazy and whining. “More. More, please--”

“I think that’s enough for today.”

Patrick makes a low, keening sound at the back of his throat, his eyes squeezing shut like he’s hurting, like he’s in pain. Even on low energy, Patrick still has enough to thrash around; head shaking side to side, hands pulling at the ropes, legs kicking at the sheets, tears spilling and sobs erupting. “Please-- More, Bren-- I need more--”

A self-satisfied smirk spreads across his lips. It’s such a gratification to watch Patrick like this, wild and desperate, all because of him. _For him._

He leans back, away from Patrick, already knowing what’s coming next. And he loves this part the most.

“No, no, no--” Patrick’s chest is heaving as he gasps for air. More tears are spilling out from the corner of his eyes and down to the pillow under him.

He’s so beautiful right now he could take a picture so he can remember it forever.

“Bren, please, I love you--” Patrick croaks out between sobs. “Give me more--”

He doesn’t blame him. He knows how much Patrick loves him, wants him, _needs him._ He feels sorry for him. Patrick deserves happiness, deserves someone who will love him properly, but it just so happened that Patrick met him first before whoever his soulmate is.

He had tried, many times, to push Patrick out of his life, but he came back each time. And each time it happened, it seemed like Patrick's love for him only grew bigger, perhaps even exponentially, and became twisted along the way.

Patrick had planted this idea in his own head, that sex is the greatest form of love, and he isn’t about to say no to it. He took Patrick over; taking all control, stripping him off everything, twisting him inside out, pushing his limit, going over his limit.

And Patrick took it-- _takes them all--_ willingly and begs for more even after they’ve finished.

“I know, sweetheart.” He nods, leaning down to kiss him chastely on the lips. “I love you too.”

Patrick’s lips move against his, chanting under his breath, and he pulls back a little to hear what he’s mumbling. “Yours. Yours, yours, _yours.”_

He presses a kiss on the side of his hickey-covered neck, lingering to suck on a small, unblemished skin. “Mine.”

He fucks him again, fast-paced and rough, and keeps him on the edge the entire time. He has a hand buried in Patrick’s hair, pulling on it roughly while his other hand is pressing down on his neck, only letting go when Patrick seems on the verge of passing out.

And Patrick. Patrick is screaming and crying and begging; everything is _too much,_ but also _too little._ He wants to _stop,_ but he also wants _more._

He’s in _pain,_ but he’s also in _pleasure._

Patrick is shivering when they’re done, his body tensing and relaxing at the same time, lost in his headspace.

He takes the time to carefully untie Patrick’s hands from the bedposts, his eyes gleaming in the dark when he sees the ropeburn on both his wrists. He loves leaving marks on Patrick, especially loves watching them when they darken on Patrick’s skin a few days later.

It’s his stamp on Patrick, and no one else can ever claim him.

He moves to the edge of the bed, wanting to shower and clean Patrick up, then have a drink and a smoke after, but Patrick’s voice stops him.

“Stay.” Patrick murmurs and reaches for his wrist, his voice hoarse from getting fucked in the throat and all the screaming, his touch soft and light from the heavy exertion, from being tied up too long.

He smiles down at Patrick, releasing his wrist to run his fingers through the sweaty and tousled strawberry blond hair. He watches as Patrick slowly closes his eyes, head tilted into his touch and lips parted, softly breathing.

His hand slides down from the tangles of Patrick’s hair to the side of his face, knuckles caressing his tear-stained cheek down to his jaw as his thumb traces along the red and plump lower lip. “Sleep now. I love you.”

Patrick’s already sleeping when he gets off the bed to clean himself up, and as he gathers their clothes strewn on the floor, he takes a second to admire the sight of Patrick on the bed.

His skin is pale and pure, just like his soul and essence, but it’s tainted with angry red streaks and and ugly yellow blotches and dark blue smudges all over.

Patrick came to him with all his innocence and virtue and love.

It’s a shame he ruined him with his own debauchery and vice and love.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad that there is a lack of Brentrick fics but I promise I'll be back with more after I'm done with the long fic ahhhh


End file.
